Too Little, Too Late

Brendon loved Ryan from the start. Not love at first sight, but as close as one really gets anymore. They started sleeping together in the apartment where they recorded the first album and Brendon had fallen in love before the record was released. Not that he told Ryan, not in some many words at least. But it was apparent. There was always a softness in those chocolate brown eyes when the two boys were together, always some part of their bodies that were being pressed together. And in the cases when there were cameras and bodies couldn't connect, Brendon drew pictures between them in the negative space, little knowing stares they were convinced no one else could read, and the occasional obvious joke.

Spencer said they were obvious. Ryan said no one could tell it was real with the way all bands in the scene seemed to "play gay". Brendon couldn't care less. He had Ryan and that was all that really mattered to him.

And Ryan had Brendon. But he also had Pete. And Jac. Later he would have Keltie and Alex. Mixed in there he would have casual friends and names he couldn't remember. And even later he would realize he'd never really had Brendon. Because he'd always been looking over his shoulder to see who else he could have, who else had been watching. Someone had always been watching.


"But we have time tonight," Brendon said, sighing as he followed Ryan into the living area of their hotel suite. "I just don't understand why you don't want to go out. We never get to go on dates on tour." He was dangerously close to whining, but trying to keep it out of his voice because whining tended to make Ryan throw things and Brendon would never get his way if that shit started.

Ryan didn't answer, digging around in the couch cushions, still looking for his wallet that he'd realized was missing an hour before. He didn't want to answer. Brendon knew the answer anyway, if he'd let himself think such a thing. But he wouldn't. Perpetual optimism and faith in people. Ryan thought it was a shortcoming, but to Brendon it was just a way of life.

"You won't even tell me where you're going," Brendon tried again. "I could come with you if you don't want to see a movie. I don't care what we do. I just want to spend some time with you, alone."

Ryan turned around, a triumphant smile on his face, wallet in his hand. "Found it."

The young boy's expression fell and he sighed, shaking his head. "Do you even listen to me talk anymore?"

"After five years I've kind of learned to tune it out, babe." Ryan pressed his lips to Brendon's cheek, shoving his wallet in his pocket and walking back toward the bedroom, where he shrugged on the jacket he'd left on the bed. "I'm going out."

"I could come with you," Brendon tried, voice soft but higher-pitched than normal, somewhat desperate.

Ryan shook his head softly, stepping toward the boy and hugging him. Not tightly, just enough to press their bodies together for a few seconds. "Don't this to yourself, Bren. I'll make it up to you when we get home." Then he was walking out the door, shutting it behind him. Brendon was sitting down on the bed, trying not to cry, trying to push the thoughts out of his head, trying to force the smile back on his face.

His smile was shaky as he knocked on the door of the suite across the hall that Jon and Spencer were staying in. The latter opened the door in jeans and a tee shirt, smiling. "Jon's packing a bowl if you and Ryan want."

"Ryan went out." Brendon stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. There was no need to explain. Everyone knew how the game went. And everyone knew how to keep their mouths shut.


"She's the new cover girlfriend?" Brendon asked, fighting himself to keep the bite out of his voice. Ryan was showing him a picture on his iPhone from a party the night before, a girl named Kate that Brendon had met once for a couple of minutes a few weeks before. She was gorgeous. Blonde, of course.

"You'd like her," Ryan said, shoving his phone back in his pocket. "You should get another one."

"I don't need a girlfriend. I have you." Brendon stood up, sighing, wondering if he was the only person in the world who felt that way. The only person that felt like they could have a secret without having to cover it up. Not even his secret to bear, really. If Ryan weren't so scared there'd be nothing to hide. "I'm gonna go have a cigarette."

Ryan stood up, following him. "Everyone thinks you're gay, y'know? That we're gay."

Brendon shrugged, opening the sliding glass door and stepping outside. "Don't care."

"I care."

The younger boy laughed. Not a nice laugh either, somewhat twisted in the back of his throat and Ryan didn't really like it. "Yeah, I know. We all know. I'm not going to screw people to make you look more straight." He pulled the box of cigarettes out of his pocket, slipping one between his lips and lighting it. He inhaled, eyes dancing across the lawn. "I thought California was supposed to be us starting over," he whispered. "New beginnings and all that shit."

"It is," Ryan murmured, stepping forward, tentatively placing a hand on Brendon's back. "We did start over, Bren."

"Everything's the same." Brendon exhaled again, stepping away so Ryan's hand fell back to his side. "Different place, different clothes, different people, same bullshit." He was dancing dangerously close to the edge. Once he fell in, he'd be trapped, pulled under. There'd be no going back.

"Did you think I was just going to want to come out because we're closer to San Francisco now?" Ryan asked dryly.

"No." Brendon turned, the cigarette still in his hand, eyes wet and dark from either hurt or anger. Ryan couldn't tell. "But I thought you might stop fucking everything with a pulse."

Something rose up inside Ryan with those words. Some strange emotion that he pictured in the shape of a sea monster, leaping up from his stomach to squeeze his heart so tightly it nearly burst. He stepped forward, nearly tripping over his feet, reaching out to pull Brendon's face to him. The kiss was hard, like cold diamonds, and Ryan's hands were shaking. Brendon couldn't even manage to kiss back for longer than a few seconds before the sob pushed its way out of his throat.

He pulled away, turning, squatting and putting his hands on his knees, lowering his head, trying so hard to keep it all together. "I think you just like playing with me," he choked out, voice broken like glass. "Do you want to push me until I break?"

Ryan just stood there, not even sure what the answer was anymore.


Brendon never spoke the ultimatum. It was simply understood. There was no date, but there never needed to be. Ryan was never going to make the right decision. So Brendon made it for him. Valentines' Day found Ryan drinking and smoking alone in his living room, checking his phone more than he would have ever admitted to doing out loud. Brendon was laughing with a pretty brunette girl, sharing a first kiss and a smile that he didn't have to strain to make.

He was going to be happy if it killed him, if it killed Ryan. He deserved this. He was allowed to be happy now.


Ryan laughed, over-loud, trying to fill the empty spaces with the forced noise. He was never as good at faking smiles as Brendon was. "It wasn't quite that amusing, babe," Z said with a chuckle, leaning in to press her lips against his cheek. "Maybe you've had too much to drink."

"Not possible." He pulled the girl down, kissing her ravenously, mouth open like an animal, not even caring that there were people around, just needing to hide inside of her for a moment. Just long enough to get his senses back. Who was he supposed to be tonight? He couldn't quite remember.

There was a whistle and then a catcall and Z managed to pull away, finally, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, clearly out of breath but smiling. "Well, damn, Ry."

"If you two need a minute, I'm sure we can clear the room," Alex teased from where he was sitting on the couch. Ryan closed his eyes for a moment to fight off the shiver that was licking the base of his spine. He couldn't even hear that voice sometimes without thinking about Brendon, thinking about the lies he'd told to hear that voice in private on tour. His sins were coming back to haunt him, his memories like ghosts in the woods.

He laughed, the same forced noise, but not quite as loud as before. Z curled into his side and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders trying to tell himself that it felt right. But her curves weren't the same as Brendon's and she was too skinny under his fingertips. Not the same smile and not the same jokes.

"Ry? Ryan?" Z was saying his name and Ryan shook his head, clearing it, turning to look at her. "You sure you're okay?" she asked, frowning.

He nodded. "Yeah, sorry. What? Zoned out."

"I asked if you wanted to smoke."

Ryan nodded again, pressing his lips to her temple. "Yeah, baby. Whatever you want."


Brendon opened the door, his smile faltering for only a second when he saw Ryan standing on the step. "Hey. What's up? Come in." He stood aside, laughing inwardly when the dogs ran at Ryan, barking.

"Is, uh, Sierra here?" Ryan asked, bending over and holding his hand out so the animals could sniff at it.

"Sarah," Brendon corrected, rolling his eyes. "Don't pretend you don't know her name. And, no, she's not. She's in Michigan visiting her sister, which she said on Twitter about an hour ago." He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow when Ryan turned to look at him. But then he just shook his head, chuckling. "It's nice to see you being the one to squirm for a change." He walked up the stairs on the landing, the dogs following him. "You want a beer?" he called, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Yeah, sure." Ryan shrugged his jacket off, laying it over the back of one of the chairs in the living room. "So, how long are you alone for then?"

Brendon emerged from the kitchen, handing Ryan a bottle, already taking a drink from his own. "Week or so. Her sister just got engaged but we had the Stride show two nights ago so I couldn't go."

"Really dodged a bullet on that one, huh?"

The younger boy sat down on the couch, taking another drink to supplement for biting his tongue. "I like her family, Ry," he said evenly as he set the bottle down on a coaster. He sighed, leaning back. "So do you want to smoke before you tell me what you're doing here or do you want to do it now and get it over with?"

"Well, if you're offering, I think it would be impolite to say no." Ryan didn't sit down, wandering around the room, looking at what pictures were on the walls, what magazines on the table. Was there a tube of lipstick sitting out? Some constant reminder? The picture was sitting on top of the entertainment center. Just the pair of them. Ryan didn't recognize where it had been taken. They looked happy. He picked up the frame, realizing as he looked at it closer that Brendon was behind him. He hadn't even heard the other boy get up.

"Couple months ago," Brendon supplied. "Sarah likes to replace it every so often." He tugged the frame out of Ryan's hands, putting it back in its spot. "I'll go get the weed. Pipe or bong?"

"Whichever." Ryan shrugged, voice distant. He listened for the footsteps that disappeared down the hallway before he snatched the picture frame back up, eyes hungry now. He scoured the photograph, looking for one iota of false smile, forced laughter. They were holding hands on a couch and he tore into their body language, looking for anything that seemed out of place. He needed to find the opening to worm himself into.

"You can put that back now," Brendon said pointedly.

Inwardly, Ryan jumped, missing the approaching footsteps yet again. Outwardly, he seemed calm, keeping his hands from shaking as he put the frame back. "She's pretty."

"I know," Brendon replied with more of a bite than Ryan liked. "Do you want greens?"

Ryan didn't really want to cross the room and sit back down on the couch yet, but he couldn't very well turn down the offer. He sat, closer to Brendon than was really necessary, his body turned toward the other boy's, their knees just touching as he held the bong in his lap, accepting the lighter. After he took the hit, he passed it over, holding the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before letting go.

They didn't speak, just passed back and forth, Ryan letting his fingers and knees touch Brendon's more than was necessary and Brendon allowing it. After the bowl was done and they'd set the bong on the table, Brendon turned on the television and Ryan curled into his ex-boyfriend's side. He still fit, just like he used to. Only now he wanted it. Now he wanted to stay forever, forget everyone else. He wanted to stop looking over his shoulder for other people. He wanted to give Brendon what the boy deserved, what he'd always deserved and never been able to get from Ryan.

"So, do you want to tell me now?" Brendon asked softly, reaching his hand out to lightly tap his fingertips against Ryan's thigh. "Or is there something else you want to do first?"

The boy tilted his head up, giving a small smile. "I'm guessing a kiss would be too much to ask."

Brendon brushed his lips against Ryan's forehead. "That's as close you're getting. Now tell me."

Ryan sat up, reaching for his beer that was warmer by now. He still took a few swallows, sighing. His head had spun slightly when he straightened up, but it was steadying out now. "I think you know, don't you, Bren?" He turned, facing the other. "Don't you?"

There was a moment of silence, Brendon reaching for his own beer, drinking about half of it before he spoke. "I think I do, yeah." He nodded, setting the bottle back down.

"I can be a good boyfriend now," Ryan murmured, setting his drink down, reaching out and squeezing Brendon's hand. His palm was clammy, a sign of desperation. "I can. I'm sorry I was so selfish before."

Brendon nodded, gave a sad smile. "I appreciate the apology," he whispered. "I love her though. Won't do that to her."

Ryan's voice cracked. "And me? You don't love me anymore?"

The younger boy's hands came up instinctively, one brushing Ryan's hair from his face, the other gently stroking his chin. "Not the way I used to." His voice was barely a breath. "I'm sorry."

Ryan's tears were like raindrops, sliding down his cheeks. He smiled through them, laughing quietly, lifting a hand up to squeezed at Brendon's wrist. "Too late, huh?"

"I waited years for you," Brendon murmured, leaning in and pressing his lips to Ryan's cheek, dangerously close to his lips, but not close enough to satisfy either of them. "Maybe this'll work out later. Not now, Ry."

"I have the worst sense of timing. Always have."

Brendon smiled, his thumb gently wiping at the tears on Ryan's cheeks. "I remember. Do you need a ride?"

Ryan shook his head, recognizing the gentle dismissal. "No. I should go though." He got up, slightly unsteady on his feet as he retrieved his jacket from the chair, slipping it on. He stopped before he reached the landing, turning, meeting Brendon's eyes with his. "I'm trying to fix everything," he said, voice shaking. "I really am. So if you ever change your mind . . ."

Brendon nodded. "Drive safe, Ry."

The boy walked out the door, pulling it shut behind him. He'd made that walk before, knowing what he was leaving behind. He'd just never wanted what he was leaving behind as much as he wanted it in that moment. He had no idea what he was heading toward as he pulled out of the driveway. All he knew was it would never equal what he was driving away from.